


Bloodstains

by 6YearsABrave



Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 2016, Atlanta Braves, Blood Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6845005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6YearsABrave/pseuds/6YearsABrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff Francoeur can't control himself around the sight of blood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodstains

_Drew,_

_I have no idea exactly how a baseball can draw blood, or even what the hell I’m doing writing this. It’s a strange obsession that compels me. I don’t know how it came about or why or even how long I’ve had it. I figure I’ll straight up tell you what I do know, since I respect you and I desperately, now more than ever, want you to respect me._

_The baseball came off the bat and toward center field, a routine can of corn. But for some wild reason, or probably just stupid randomness, you bobbled it. I don’t know what might have been going through your mind. Probably something to do with something off the field. I have no interest in prodding you about it. We all have those issues. But regardless of what it really was that may or may not have been distracting you, you still bobbled that ball and it somehow hit you right in the kisser. It hit you so hard it must have cut your lip on your teeth, because instantly, a stream of bright red blood dribbled down your chin._

_Forgive me._

_I’ve not forgotten that sight. Haven’t gotten it out of my head the whole day. I have no idea what to do about it other than leave you this dumb note. Ignore it if you want. But just know that I can’t forget that sight and I would do anything to have a few moments alone with you. Just for clarification, I am your teammate and I would never dream of doing anything to hurt you or your loved ones. Remember, I respect you, and all I want is your good will in return. And something else. I have a problem, Drew. Like I said, I don’t know what else to do about it. I believe the solution will be harmless enough._

_Meet me outside the Ted, at the edge of the player parking lot, under the overhang with the sign that says ‘Enjoy the game’. Tomorrow before BP, noon._

_I would be much obliged._

_~Your secret, hematomaniacal admirer_

 

Drew Stubbs must have stared at the slightly crumpled piece of paper he held in his hand for a full minute after reading it twice and before putting it down. He found it attached to his locker the day following his eventful day in center field that his ‘secret admirer’ described. 

Picking up his phone, he quickly typed in the word ‘hematomaniacal’. 

_Marked by an uncontrollable obsession with blood._

 

The time came, and Drew found his eyes wandering to that spot. 

He’d just driven up into the player parking lot and was ready for BP. He spied a lone man in Braves clothes leaning against the wall, looking at his phone and tapping a foot. 

Jeff Francoeur.

Not who he would have expected. 

He exited the car, bag slung over his shoulder, suddenly not knowing which way he was walking. It would be near impossible to enter the stadium without Jeff seeing him. Drew’s mind was made up for him.

“Drew!”

There was no way Drew could pretend not to hear. Remembering from the note about how he didn’t want to hurt anyone, Drew waved back weakly. “Hey there, Frenchy.” His feet started instinctively moving toward Jeff as Jeff beckoned to him.

“Come here,” Jeff pleaded, meeting Drew halfway across the lot where he was and leading him back to the secluded place by the wall. “Listen. You get my note?”

“Yeah.” A tone of wonderment crept into Drew’s voice.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way,” Jeff said, Drew noticing that his eyes had wandered to his lips. His split lip. “I…” He trailed off, scratching his head.

Drew looked up at the outfielder quizzically. “Uh, what was it you wanted to do about it, exactly?”

Jeff’s mouth hung open, like he was frozen, staring. Without warning he grabbed Drew by the shoulders and swung him over to the wall, plastering his back against it, and mashed his mouth against Drew’s. 

Drew couldn’t have been more shocked. His bag fell to the ground as he held onto Jeff instinctively for support. He thought he might faint and fall over. Jeff’s mouth had a complete hold on him, and it was like there was no way to stop it. His hips pressed against Drew’s and his hands squeezed his biceps until he felt every pulse of his heart like a lightning strike. He thought he might have stepped on Jeff’s toes.

But after a strange moment, standing there, kissing Jeff, it was like Drew didn’t want to put a stop it. His entire body was flooded with a feeling he hadn’t ever felt before, not even back when he had a steady boyfriend and he got it all the time. There was something different about Jeff. 

Drew’s eyes were fluttering closed, confirmation he was really enjoying it, when he tasted it.

His blood.

Jeff had reopened his split lip, which had stuck over and was just starting to heal. Drew noticed Jeff starting to suck on him even more fervently, if that was possible. The taste was a bit strange, but the feeling he got from the experience overall was amazing.

Confused, Drew pushed back against Jeff’s shoulders, pulling away and facing him. “Frenchy,” he sputtered. 

Jeff groaned, breathing heavily. He licked his lips. “Drew – oh,” He said, looking at him.

Drew’s lip had started to bleed anew. He wiped the bright red dribble off with his shirt. 

“Let me help you with that-” Jeff started, reaching for Drew again.

“I think I got it,” Drew said, turning away, slightly embarrassed, as he cleaned up most of it. Hoping no one else in the parking lot would notice them, and no one else in the clubhouse would notice the stains, he started to make his way around and away from Jeff. To his surprise, Jeff let him, handing him his bag he’d dropped. 

Drew looked up at him with an entirely new view. “Thanks.”

 

The next night after the game Drew met Jeff in the showers. His lip had still not made much progress healing. 

Jeff smiled, a bit darkly, if Drew said so. “Hey, Drew.” 

“Had a good game?” Drew had had the night off.

“Yeah.” 

Drew cleared his throat, not knowing where to go from there. “I think I’m gonna take a shower real quick,” he said, deciding the objective truth couldn’t hurt. Then, casually, “How about you?” Tentatively stealing a glance up at the outfielder, Drew found himself holding his breath.

“Sure,” Jeff said, his voice becoming lower. “Me too.” He didn’t look Drew in the face as he slung his towel over a rack. 

They headed for the same stall like they were playing some kind of mind game. Jeff couldn’t keep himself the whole time, no matter how hard he tried, from looking at Drew, however, and he eventually gave in to his howling urge.

Once Drew was covered in water and he himself was too, he made for Drew, not taking his eyes from Drew’s lip. Taking his upper arms with his hands like last time he paid no attention to Drew’s expression as he kissed him. Once again Drew found himself backed against the wall. 

Drew completely gave in this time. The truth was, he wanted it now. Jeff and his kiss were all he thought about the whole previous day and a half. He never admitted it to himself until he realized it then – he was lonely. 

No more. As long as –

“Oh,” he said in surprise as he tasted blood again suddenly. His hands were around Jeff’s waist when he brought one up to his mouth, but Jeff waved him back. 

“It’s fine,” he said heavily, kissing him again, seeming to lick away all the blood until Drew barely tasted it anymore. Digging his fingers into Jeff’s slick back, he felt Jeff coming closer and closer onto him, his hips starting to get more and more active. It was as if Jeff was taking him inside of himself, not quite eating him, but something even more intimate than that. He felt himself coming onto Jeff as Jeff’s tongue probed every surface of his mouth and he hung on it. 

Jeff completely enclosed Drew against the wall with his body, which was a little more burly than Drew’s. It let Drew hang onto him better and feel safer. They grunted and screamed on each other’s shoulders as they stood there, getting each other off, while the running showers muted the sounds they made and washed away the mess. 

It was certainly unlike any shower Drew had ever taken before. 

 

The next day nothing much had changed.

Jeff came over to Drew’s locker and made very little smalltalk before going for his lips – or rather, lip. Drew took it, pulling Jeff further into the locker, trying to hide from everyone else behind him and keep quiet. After a moment, he tasted blood again, but by now, he really didn’t care all that much.

 

The next day – the same thing. And the next day. And the next day. Occasionally augmented with a shower and a good session. 

Until the day Drew didn’t taste blood. 

Jeff kept pulling at him, almost biting him, Drew’s mouth almost entirely inside Jeff’s, sucking, begging it for something red to come forth that he could lick away like a thirsty animal. 

It surprised Drew also. Jeff being pressed up against him soothed his nerves in such a way that he really didn’t care that he had a wound that was being prevented from healing. But Jeff couldn’t delay that process forever, and now, one had to look carefully at Drew in order to see what was left of the scab. 

Jeff pulled back and took a good, thorough look at him. He grinned at one corner of his mouth. “Huh,” he said quietly. 

It was even more awkward for Drew. “Uhmm…” He started, but didn’t really know what to say. 

Jeff broke the awkwardness by kissing him again, going deep for that precious liquid, sucking on Drew as hard as he’d ever sucked, but once again, coming up dry. 

_At least he was polite about it,_ Drew thought as Jeff left him behind in his locker. 

 

Drew had to admit he was a little surprised when Jeff entered his shower stall a couple of days later. Without saying a word or looking at Drew, he got to washing like he didn’t have a care in the world. Drew couldn’t help but stare. He tried not to care, but he had to wonder what Jeff was up to. 

He was shaving. In the shower.

“H-hey, Frenchy,” Drew stammered, dying to break the awkward silence. “Wh-what’s up?”

Jeff slowly lowered his razor, turning his head toward Drew. Coming over, he put a hand on Drew’s bare shoulder. “Hey, Drew,” he said in a deep voice. 

“Hey,” Drew muttered as Jeff drew closer and suddenly kissed him. 

It was different than the kisses Jeff had given him before; something was off, and Drew could tell immediately. He pushed Jeff back, attempting to figure out just what was going on, when his eyes were drawn to Jeff’s hand at his side.

It was still holding the razor – poised to descend on Drew’s skin.

“Whoa, dude,” Drew interjected. “What the hell?”

Jeff quickly hid the razor behind his back. “Uh-”

“Were you trying-” Drew stuttered, eyes wide, “were you trying to _cut_ me?”

“N-no,” Jeff stammered. 

Drew was in shock. Taking a couple of steps back, away from Jeff, he shook his head. Not knowing what else to do or think, he left the showers as quickly as he could. 

 

Thoughts whirred through Drew’s head as he sat in his locker, head down, towels draped all over him. 

He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. The blood had dried up, after all. It was all Jeff wanted, and Drew knew it from the beginning, despite the fact that Drew wouldn’t admit to himself: he wished that Jeff wanted more than just his blood. He wished that Jeff could be happy with him without having to have his blood. 

He got dressed and went home. It wasn’t to be, and that made him just a little sad.

 

The next day, as if fate were stepping in to remedy the situation, Drew was designated for assignment.

His first reaction to the news wasn’t entirely negative; the Braves were not a winning team. In fact, they were in last place, in full ‘rebuild’ mode. He wondered if it would be worth it in the end for them. Now he had a chance to maybe sign with a team that could win. 

Jeff Francoeur was one of the last few players who came up to say goodbye to him in the clubhouse as he packed his things. “H-hey, Drew,” he started, visibly nervous. “Sorry about, uh, what’s been going on.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Look,” he said quietly, scratching the back of his neck. “I can’t make up to you what happened, what I was…trying to do,” he said. “Last night, I mean. Thing is, I just have these weird feelings. It’s like I can’t control them. They were dormant for a long time. I didn’t feel anything. Until…you already know.” He looked Drew in the eyes. “I’m trying my damnedest to get over it and move on. You were a great sport through the whole thing, and I’m thankful.”

“Frenchy, I-”

“I think it’s for the best.” He came forward, to Drew’s surprise, and hugged him. “I wish you all the luck in the world.” 

Drew felt a pang of pity. He hugged Jeff back, closing his eyes. “You too,” he whispered, accepting it with a smile.


End file.
